the root of my problems, does not have a root at all, its like  not string or a tail of bread crumbs I can follow back to a single moment, it isnt a suppressed thought, its a voice that convinces me my thoughts were worth suppressing me in the first place.

I close my eyes
And gently trace
A finger on my lips
Vivid memories awaken
With a sigh,
And lazily eclipse
All reality
Now it's you and me,
My senses in your grip
Intoxicated, electrified by
Your finger on my lips